


fault lines tremble underneath this glass house

by asafeplace



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 4+1 Things, 5+1 Things, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Disorder, Bucky Barnes Has Panic Attacks, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Bucky Barnes, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Captain America: The First Avenger, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Steve Rogers, but I needed an antagonist, but it's actually, natasha is mean, she's actually cool
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-09 23:55:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15279021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asafeplace/pseuds/asafeplace
Summary: Four times Bucky felt like a burden to Steve and the one time Steve told him why he wasn't





	fault lines tremble underneath this glass house

1.

“Hey, Capsicle, I’m taking Thor out tonight—I want to introduce him to the wild and sensuous stylings of the New York City.” Tony raised his eyebrows suggestively. “Now, I know you present a very . . . how do I put this delicately”—he stroked his beard— “You give off those ‘Laura Ingalls Wilder in her floor-length dressing gown’ vibes, but I know you want to get some.”

Steve opened his mouth to respond, but before he could—

“And don’t even pretend like you don’t get that reference. _Little House on the Prairie_ came out in 1932; I know because I looked it up.” Tony crossed his arms. “So, you in?”

Steve offered a polite smile. “Listen, Tony, I appreciate the offer—no, wait, I _really_ do, but I’m just not sure we’re ready to go out yet.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, believe it or not, I’ve been to these types of clubs before”—at this, Tony clutched his hand to his chest— “and they’re loud, with lots of overlapping sounds; and the lights are busy and bright; and people are crammed in there, so you can’t move and inch and a half without someone ramming into you. And like I said, right now, that’s just not our scene.”

Tony nodded, barely letting Steve finish before he started up again. “Yeah, yeah, I get all _that_ , but why do you keep saying “our” or “we” like I’m not asking you, Steve Rogers?” Tony squinted, looked to his left and then his right, before leaning in and stage-whispering, “Do I need to schedule another appointment with the team therapist?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “While I thank you for your concern, I don’t have multiple personality disorder. That’s right, Tony, you’re not the only one who’s done a little reading,” he smirked. “But seriously, I don’t want to go out, especially not to a club. We—me and Bucky—we’re not ready for that sort of chaos.”

“You mean _he’s_ not ready.”

Steve sighed. Tony did have a point. It _had_ been a while since he’d last been out. And even though Tony’s sex-dens weren’t really what he was looking for, it might be nice just to have a little change of scenery.

“You know that you’re not actually required to be 100% selfless. You are allowed to do things for yourself once in a while.”

“It’s not like that, Tony. He’s still recovering, and I—”

“And you don’t what, Steve? Look, I know that Barnes is still fragile, and that’s why I asked you”—Tony pointed at Steve’s chest— “not him to come out with us. Your life doesn’t revolve around him. At least, it doesn’t have to.”

“That’s not how it is, he’s—”

Steve went silent at the sight of Bucky standing at the doorway. Whatever he was going to say disappeared in his throat as he realised his friend had been listening. Dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt, Bucky padded into the kitchen and pulled down a mug from one of the cabinets.

“So,” he said, turning the stove on and setting a kettle on the burner, “I think you should go.”

“What?”

“I think you should go out to the clubs or wherever with Tony and Thor.”

Steve sputtered. “But why?”

“Steve, I don’t want to be holding you back. And anyway, I remember how much you loved to dance, even if you were god-awful at it.”

“Well, in all fairness, there’s not going to be a whole lot of dancing where we’re going. I mean, at least not from Steve’s end, although the ladies are _very_ talented with—”

Bucky gave him a look. “Stark. Back in my day, we had a saying. Now maybe it didn’t carry over into the future, but I think you've probably heard it.” Bucky sipped his tea. “It goes like this: Quit while you’re ahead.”

Tony raised his hands in surrender. “I’m leaving in an hour. If the ball and chain get too boring, you know where to find me.”

After Tony left, Steve turned to Bucky. “You don’t really think that you’re holding me back, right?”

“Steve, I know the lecture. But Tony has a point. When was the last time you did something for yourself?”

“I don’t know, it’s not important—”

“But that’s my point: it _is_ important. Go have fun, Steve.”

“Buck, you know if you don’t want me to, then I won’t go.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow.

Steve turned towards the door, his reluctance written in the slouch of his shoulders. “You’ll call if you need anything, right?”

“Yes, Ma, I’ll call.”

Steve closed the door behind him, “Alright, see you later then.”

Bucky had already turned around when the lock clicked shut. It was a good act, he thought. Steve seemed to buy it at least.

His mind flashed back to Stark’s words. “Ball and chain.” Ball _and_ chain. He tried the phrase out, letting the emphasis fall on different words. It still felt the same. Ball and chain? Was that really how Steve viewed him? He’d always thought that if he was the ball, then Steve was the chain. Or whatever the items were, it was _a and b,_ Steve _and_ Bucky. He’d never imagined that he was the weight holding Steve down.

 _Fuck_. Bucky ran his hand across his face. This didn’t have to change things. Bucky would just be a little less clingy, give Steve a little more space.

 

2.

Buck figured his first step should be to leave their floor of the Avengers Tower a little more often. If Bucky was out, then Steve would feel no obligation to stick around. There was one slight problem, though: Bucky didn’t really have anywhere to go.

For the first few days, he just wandered around the Avengers Tower—it was a massive building, after all—but that got old pretty quickly. So, Bucky took to the streets. He went to cafés and clothing stores, cinemas and street food vendors, museums and shopping malls. Eventually, he settled on the library.

The library was open for hours each day, and it was one of the few places left where he wasn’t expected to spend money.

Bucky didn’t always read while he was there. Most of the time, he just stared out a window, watching the pedestrians and wondering what sort of lives they had.

At some point, he realised he was being followed. At a later point, he confronted his shadow. To no one’s surprise, it was Natasha.

“Why are you following me? I’m not doing anything.”

“And I am sure of that now.”

“So, why?”

Natasha raised an eyebrow. The answer was obvious to her. “After months of staying happily on your floor, you suddenly start going out every day—anyone with half a brain would be suspicious.”

Bucky took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly. “Now that you’ve seen what I’m doing, which is sitting at the library, will you stop following me?”

“Maybe.” She turned to leave but thought better of it. “You know, I think it’s good what you are doing.”

Bucky sighed. “And what is that, Natalia?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, James. You’re giving Steve space.” She moved to face him fully. “Steve would never say it, but before you came along, he was doing well.”

Bucky steeled himself for what was to come. He needed to look impassive, unaffected by whatever Natasha would say.

“He was getting better, you know. He stopped isolating himself so much; might tag along to the occasional party or stick around after a press release. He almost had a girlfriend. You”—she glared at Bucky— “ruined that for him.”

Bucky felt his breath catch in his thought but forces himself to stay calm.

“Steve stopped living in the past so much. But you dredged all that up and forced him to put his life on hold while he took care of you.” Natasha held up a hand, signalling for his continued silence. “I’m not saying that he doesn’t care about you, but you took over his life. Whether you meant to or not, you pushed out everything else good with your issues.”

Bucky’s eyes burned, but he managed to keep his voice from wavering. “I know.”

“Good.” Natasha paused. “We all want what’s best for Steve. So, just keep doing what you’ve been doing, and I will stop following you. Fair?”

Bucky nodded.

“Then I’ll see you around. But hopefully not too much, right?” She winked.

He forced a smile across his face. The initial sting of Natasha’s words had faded into an aching numbness. He knew she was right, but that didn’t make it any less painful to hear.

 

3.

“Barnes and Noble! You going to join the rest of team for movie night or what?”

From the other room, Clint laughed. Barnes and Noble—that was a new one.

Steve smiled. “Depends. What’s tonight’s choice?”

Tony’s grin widened. “It’s a classic. Truly a masterpiece of our generation, if not—”

“Not technically your generation, Stark. It’s a little past your time, isn’t it?” Clint winked.

“Fuck off, Hawkface! As I was saying, this film is an iconic piece of cinema from _our_ generation and for generations to come. It addresses complex themes of social dynamics, especially when it comes to adapting to a new environment. I actually think it’ll resonate with you, Cap.”

“Mm-hm,” Steve said suspiciously. “And what’s it called?”

Tony’s eyes glittered. “Mean Girls,” he said with a show of hands.

Steve sighed, like he was giving in after a long battle. “Alright, you’ve got me.”

“Yes!” Tony leapt onto the couch and pumped his fist.

Natasha and Clint each grabbed one of Steve’s arms and pulled him towards the common area. Steve allowed himself to be toppled into the pile of pillows and couch cushions, laughing as he fell.

“Huzzah! We have bested the mighty Captain in this jousting affair!”

“Keep telling yourself that, Stark,” Steve said.

Bucky watched the scene from the edge of the room. Since his conversation with Natasha, he started to see his influence everywhere.

With the rest of the team, Steve was carefree—people tended to forget that he wasn’t really 100 years old. From the age of 21, he’d done nothing but fight and lead. He’s had thousands and then, millions of lives resting on his shoulders, all starting at the age that most kids use to get drunk and get laid.

Bucky was in infection; he was the damp mould spreading through a house. Whenever he was around, Steve became the responsible team leader again. The change was completely unconscious—he was pretty sure that Steve had no idea he was doing it—but Bucky’s presence sucked the energy out of the room. Suddenly, Steve was worrying about him, and his needs, and if the music was too loud for Bucky’s ears, or if his arm was pulling at his muscles, and so on.

Bucky never wanted to be the person who prevented Steve from living his life to the fullest.

Steve propped himself up on his elbow. “Hey, Buck. You just going to stand there, or are you going to join the rest of us down here?”

Bucky opened his mouth to answer but revaluated after catching Natasha’s pointed look. He smiled wanly. “Stevie, why don’t you go ahead without me? I’m feeling a little under the weather—I’m not really up for any roughhousing tonight.”

Steve frowned. “You sure? If you’re not feeling well, then it could be something serious; maybe I should stay—”

“I’m fine, just a little sore from the mission yesterday. I can still enjoy the movie from the far away land of the couch.”

From the corner of his eye, Bucky saw Natasha nod curtly, approving his performance.

Even though Tony quoted every line right along with the actors, Bucky had to agree with him: the movie was excellent. Bucky didn’t really like most of the violent action movies (yet _another_ thing he prevented Steve from enjoying); despite their obvious inaccuracies and hysterics, they still hit too close to home. It doesn’t matter how shitty the special effects are once you’ve had your arm sawed off.

As the credits rolled, Steve turned to his friend. “Bedtime, Buck?”

“Bedtime? Really, Steve?”

“That’s a yes, right?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes, Steve, that’s a yes.”

In truth, Bucky was tired. But opposed to his explanation, Bucky’s exhaustion was internal, a permeating ache he rarely acknowledged. It was a ridiculous comparison, but it reminded him of spicy food: You only feel the burn when you stop eating.

Now, with nowhere to go and no one to distract him, Bucky couldn’t help but turn his attention inwards. _Drained._ It took some time to find the right words, but that was it. Bucky felt _drained._ His world was slowly losing its vibrancy; the colours turned flat and muted, and memories once full of joy seemed distant.

The bed was cold—but really, Bucky should have expected that. He and Steve had stopped sharing a room weeks ago, but Bucky’s skin still reacted to the cool sheets as opposed to the anticipated warmth. He stared at the ceiling.

At times like these, sleep was a blessing.

 

4.

Just because Bucky was trying to give Steve some space didn’t mean that he _never_ went out with him. That would be even more suspicious. But he was always careful to make it a group outing—like right now, on July 4th, when the entire team was watching fireworks.

Red, white, and blue exploded above him.

_(“You see those fireworks, Stevie? Those are just for you.”_

_“Really, Buck?”_

_“Would I lie to you, Rogers? Would I?”_

_“No, never.”)_

Tony waved his hand in front of Bucky’s face. “Earth to Barnes, earth to Barnes?”

Bucky blinked.

“There we go. Have a sparkler, Automail.”

“You sure it’s a good idea for me to have a flaming rod, Stark?” Bucky asked, twirling the sparkler in his metal hand.

Tony shrugged. “Loads of people said it wasn’t a good idea for me to have a flying suit with advanced weapons systems and artificial intelligence, but here we are.”

“You know, now that I think about it, those people might have had a point.”

“Harsh words coming from a man on _my_ yacht.”

“Fight me on the land, Stark, and we’ll see how far you get.”

Tony grinned. Bucky could be pretty reserved at times, but when he was good, he was _good._ Not everyone could provide this sort of top-notch banter.

Nearby, another round of firecrackers went off. They weren’t part of the official show, just some kids messing around on the docks. Tony could tell—as a teen, he’d set off far more of those noisemakers than strictly necessary. Tony didn’t think much of it; he just turned back towards the main event—until he saw Bucky.

Bucky was lying on the ground, curled into a foetal position. The deck chair had been knocked over, but Bucky didn’t seem to notice. His eyes were squeezed shut, and he was rocking gently from side to side. Tension radiated from his hands, clutching his skull and pulling at his hair.

“Steve! Get over here; we need you!”

But Steve was already on his way, shield in one hand. Within seconds, his whole demeanour transformed: he slipped into battle-mode like a wave rushing over him. However, his body language quickly changed once he understood the situation. Steve dropped the shield.

He crouched beside Bucky, eyebrows knit together, and laid a hand on his forearm. “Hey, hey, hey, what’s going on, Buck?”

Bucky shuddered away from the touch, folding further in on himself.

“Alright, pal, I won’t touch you until you’re ready. It’s just me, Steve.” Eyes still trained on his friend, he turned towards Tony, who was hovering a few feet away. “Tony, what happened here?”

“I don’t know—I swear, I don’t! We didn’t do anything, one second he was fine, watching the fireworks, and then he was on the ground.”

Steve nodded, considering what Tony said. “The fireworks did anything change about them?”

“Not really, except for a couple or noisemakers down by the shore.”

“Oh, Bucky, that must’ve been rough. I can just imagine. You’re sitting there enjoying the show, and then there are explosions going off. But you’re okay now, you hear me? You’re okay now.”

Under Steve’s soothing tone, Bucky’s shaking slowed to a slight shiver.

“That’s right, you’re safe, we’re all safe.” His hand floated above Bucky’s back. “Is it okay for me to touch you now?”

Bucky nodded minutely.

“Someone’s feeling a little better, huh? Can you maybe open your eyes for me, Buck?”

Bucky shook his head.

“That’s okay, I understand.” Steve rubbed his thumb across the back of Bucky’s hand. Bucky leaned into the touch, like a plant reaching for the sun. “You don’t mind if I stay here, right? I won’t leave you until you tell me to, I’ll stay right here.” He paused. “I’ll never leave your side, Buck. Please don’t forget that.”

Silence stretched between them, while the surrounding Avengers pretended that they hadn’t been paying attention.

“Steve,” Bucky said, his voice hoarse, “I’ll be fine. Go enjoy the fireworks.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Didn’t you hear me? I’m not leaving until you’re okay.”

“And I said _I’m fine._ Or what, you don’t trust me?”

“Come on, you know that’s not what—”

“What _did_ you mean?” Bucky pushed Steve away from him. “I’m not just your broken friend, who you need to baby because he can’t handle something as basic as fucking fireworks. I’m not going to fucking snap just because you’re not there to hold my hand. I’m a goddamn adult, Rogers?”

“That’s not what I’m doing! I’m not trying to _coddle_ you, I just, I just—I was just trying to help.”

“Well, you didn’t.”

He stormed off, Steve staring after him.

Steve gaped at the rest of team. “What did I say?”

Tony shrugged, Bruce offered a sympathetic look, and Natasha simply turned away.

 

+1

Steve found Bucky sitting in _~~their~~  _his room.

“What going on?”

Still refusing to face Steve, Bucky crossed his arms and stared at the empty wall.

“Fine. You’re giving me the silent treatment?” Steve sighed. “Well I can’t make you talk, but I need you to hear me.” He sat down on the edge of the bed. “Bucky, the last thing I wanted to do was hurt you. I don’t know how to explain it: I just, I saw you in pain, and I couldn’t help but react.”

Steve inched closer, his hand next to Bucky’s thigh. “Maybe I didn’t do the right thing, and if that’s true, then I’m sorry. Bucky, if I hurt you, I am so sorry. I understand if you don’t want to talk about it now, but maybe some other time, you can tell me what you would want me to do in a situation like that.”

Bucky remained still, as if he hadn’t heard a thing.

“I just want to help, Buck.”

More silence followed.

“Alright, I get it. Come find me when you’re ready.”

He was halfway to the door when—

“Steve, wait.”

 True to his word, Steve stopped in his tracks. He leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, and waited, allowing Bucky to take the lead.

“It’s not—it’s not you. Really, it’s not.” Glancing away, he ran a hand through his hair. “And I didn’t mean what I said. Any of it. I don’t hate you, Steve. I know you were just trying to help.”

Steve closed his eyes, taking a moment to organise his thoughts. “But you were kind of right, Buck. You definitely had a point. I haven’t been giving you your space. I guess I got too caught up in myself—I was just sohappy to have you back—that I forgot to think about what _you_ wanted and _your_ needs.” Steve tried to catch Bucky’s gaze. It was important that he heard—like truly _heard—_ this part. “And for that, I’m sorry.”

“I appreciate you saying all that, but you still got it wrong.”

“What?”

“Look, I’m not supposed to be telling you this.” Bucky said, eyebrows furrowed. “But I can’t let you go around beating yourself up.” He took a deep breath. “I don’t _want_ space from you, Stevie. I never have, and I never will.”

“Then why did you—”

“I realised that just because Idon’t need space from you doesn’t mean that you don’t need space from me. You need time alone, and time to go on dates, and time with just your other friends.”

“That’s bullshit!”

Bucky groaned. “Steve, listen, I know you’re trying to protect my feelings, but it’s the truth. Everyone knew it, except for me. Tony, Natasha, probably even Bruce. A couple weeks back, Natasha and I even had a talk. She really turned it around on me and showed me what I was doing to you.

“She told me that before I came back, you were happy. You hung out with the team more, you were dating, et cetera. I’d didn’teven _consider_ how my trauma has been affecting you. It’s not right, Steve. It’s not right what I’m doing to you.”

Steve’s eyes widened. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “First of all, Natasha and I are going to be having a talk. Second of all, before you showed up, I was  _miserable_. Sure, I went on dates, but only because Natasha forced me. And do you know what I did during those dates? Do you, Bucky? I sat there, wishing it was you across the table.

“And all that time I spent with the team? It was mostly out of obligation. It wasn’t that I didn’t like Bruce or Tony or Clint, but it all seemed kind of pointless without you. Bucky, before you came back, life was just the motions. Now, it finally feels real.”

“So, you don’t want me to leave?” Bucky asked, eyebrows raised hopefully.

Steve grasped Bucky’s hands and looked into his eyes, expression full of sincerity. “No, Bucky. I never _ever_ want you to leave.” He tucked a strand of hair behind Bucky’s ear. “And I hate that anyone could make you feel that way.”

Bucky pulled Steve into a hug, tears of relief running down his face. “I thought—I thought I was ruining you, Steve,” he choked, voice breaking at several points.

“No, Buck, no. Is this why you stopped sleeping in our bed?”

Bucky chuckled wetly, “Yeah, basically. Hey Stevie, when you said that you wished it was me on those dates, did you mean that like. . .?”

“I didn’t mean for it to come out this way, but”—he looked up at the ceiling— “yeah. I meant it like that.”

“Hey, Steve?”

He couldn’t bear to look at Bucky’s face. Steve knew he would try to pretend like it didn’t matter, like it wouldn’t change anything, but still. You don’t just confess your love for your (straight) best friend and expect everything to continue as normal.

“Could you do me a favour?”

Still looking away, Steve nodded.

“Kiss me?”

One thing’s for sure: that got his attention. “Kiss you?”

Bucky smiled, arms resting on Steve’s shoulders. “Yeah, Stevie, kiss me.”

Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky’s waist, pulling him in, and pressed his lips against his. The kiss was strong but full of leisure, like they had all the time in the world, and both Bucky and Steve were wrapped in the indescribable warmth that comes only from loving and being loved in return.

It was everything they had imagined and maybe just a little bit more.

Bucky rested his forehead against Steve’s. “Who ever thought it’d be just me and you?”

Steve laughed, burying his face in the crook of Bucky’s neck. The tension of the earlier conversation dissipated as they basked in the glow of their kiss.

“Bucky?” Steve asked, pressing his lips to his forehead.

“Hmm?”

“Don’t let anyone ever tell you that I don’t want you.”

 

+2

Things changed for the better after that.

For starters, Steve pulled the team aside to discuss the way that they had been treating Bucky.

“Even when I had nothing, I had Bucky,” he had explained. “So, when I want to stay in with him instead of going out to a bar or club or whatever, it’s not out of obligation. It’s because I genuinely want to be with him.”

Tony raised his hand. “Cap, listen, I understand that, but are you—”

“Look, Tony, when you take a night off with Pepper, does anyone question it? It’s the same thing.”

“Wait a second. Are you saying what I think you are?” Tony asked, glee dancing in his eyes.

Steve sighed. Now was as good a time as any. “Bucky and I are together.”

And from then on, when Bucky and Steve sat pressed against each other during movie night, or walked a little closer together than necessary, no one said anything. That was just the way it was.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Earth by Sleeping at Last
> 
> Comments are the actual elixir of an author's life, so spare some words for a humble peasant


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